As the memory of what it was like to actually see a band play live music fades further into the pre-COVID past, it’s more vital than ever that I jot down my fading recollections of my nights spent bouncing around various clubs and concert halls!
For this latest collection of wacky concert memories, I’m focusing on shows by one of my all-time favorite bands, Fishbone. As any regular Popwell readers are aware, I consider the SoCal funk outfit to be the most underappreciated band on the planet, and they’ve been dazzling audiences with their incredibly tight, high-energy shows for over three decades now. I’ve been lucky enough to be in the crowd for a number of memorable gigs…
The Graduate, Isla Vista, CA (1987?)
I didn’t actually get into the first Fishbone show I ever saw. That’s because I spent a good chunk of my undergraduate career at UCSB being a dumbass, and even though I was already a huge Fishbone fan, I somehow neglected to get tickets to their show at Isla Vista’s favorite dance club/pick-up joint, The Graduate. The show sold out, of course, leaving me out in the cold. Luckily for me, though, The Graduate used to have these huge floor-to-ceiling windows along both sides of the building. My roommate and I camped out along the windows that were directly behind the stage and watched Fishbone thrash their way through a white-hot set of their early ska-punk classics. The sound wasn’t the best, but Fish’s powerful drumming and Norwood Fisher’s bouncy bass lines had our bones rattling even through the walls, while Angelo Moore’s frantic careening around the small stage was easy to appreciate from any vantage point. I vowed to never miss a chance to actually get inside a Fishbone gig again.
I caught Fishbone a couple more times over the next few years, including a great 1991 show at the Warfield in San Francisco that’s featured in the (not particularly great) documentary Everyday Sunshine as an example of the band at its peak. Don’t remember many particulars from most of these shows, other than the band was always fantastic and Angelo was probably the world’s greatest frontman. I do vividly remember the security guy at a Palladium Fishbone show ludicrously confiscating my Larry “Grandmama” Johnson pipe when I tried to sneak it into a show there.
Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library and Birthplace, Yorba Linda, CA (1994)
This definitely ranks number one on the list of “Strangest Places I’ve Seen a Show” – and on the list of “Craziest Finale to a Show,” too. It all happened at a party thrown by Industrial Light & Magic to celebrate Jurassic Park making $100 million or something. They rented out the grounds of the Nixon Birthplace and set up a stage inside the library. A friend of mine weaseled his way into a couple of passes to the party; his former roommate worked for ILM at the time. Anyway, the eventful evening included a meandering speech from Dr. Timothy Leary, me getting bumped into pretty hard by a manic Jim Carrey in a hurry to get somewhere, free drinks, a tour of Nixon’s childhood home, and a Fishbone set to close the show. Well, my friend and I were positively the two biggest Fishbone fans in the bewildered crowd of Hollywood flotsam, so we went right to the front of the stage and danced around like maniacs. Angelo recognized our insanity and tossed us each a Fishbone shirt (I still have mine!).
At some point, we meandered back from the stage and struck up a conversation with Angelo’s (now ex-) wife. Just as the set was ending, she told us that we should probably get further back from the stage. That’s when Norwood stepped up to the mic, said that he’d been thinking about playing at the Nixon Library all day, then dropped the Hefty bag he was wearing as pants and pissed all over the stage in a fitting tribute to the disgraced president. Most of the crowd wasn’t sure how to react, but we thought it was pretty hilarious. Later that night, my friend and I were chatting with Angelo and his wife about the episode. Angelo said that the band had spent the evening cooped up in a wild Nixon-themed dressing room that had been driving them crazy. As Angelo and my buddy (a fellow sax player) discussed reeds or whatever sax players talk about, his wife led me down to the aforementioned dressing room. One entire wall was taken up with Nixon’s huge face and thumbs-up sign. It was pretty easy to see how having that stare down at you for hours could drive you to extremes. So that was a crazy night.
House of Blues, Hollywood, CA (1994?)
Although not strictly a Fishbone gig, this show still vaguely qualifies because Norwood was there with his side project Trulio Disgracias, and because I have a very specific memory of meeting him here. I had just started working at the Long Beach State student newspaper, and the Hollywood House of Blues invited two of us to a Bootsy Collins show, complete with backstage tour. They were under the impression that our student newspaper was going to make or break the venue, I guess, because they really rolled out the red carpet. Anyway, in addition to being treated to an awesome Bootsy show, we were handed passes that let us pretty much wander everywhere backstage we wanted. At some point after Trulio played, we encountered Norwood upstairs, leaning against the balcony and waiting around for Bootsy to start. My buddy got very excited. “I’m gonna smoke out Norwood!” he declared, pulling his weed and pipe out of his pocket. We brashly walked up to Norwood and my buddy asked if he wanted to smoke pot with us. Norwood gladly obliged, but just as he started smoking, some friend of his wandered up and struck up a conversation with him. Norwood proceeded to smoke the entire bowl while they chatted, as my friend and I stood there dumbly watching. “I’m gonna smoke out Norwood” quickly turned into “Norwood smoked all my pot,” but we still got a decent story out of it, so I guess it all worked out in the end.
The Melkweg, Amsterdam, Holland (1996)
Speaking of pot smoking, I lived for a while in Amsterdam in 1996, where I was lucky enough to catch Fishbone at the legendary Melkweg nightclub. The day got off to a great start when I stumbled out of a hash bar mid-afternoon, only to run into Angelo and Norwood coming around the corner. My girlfriend snapped a picture of Angelo and I, the snow drifting down on his ridiculous fur hat (Norwood managed to sidle his way out of frame).
So anyway, did I mention that a friend from the States was visiting us and had smuggled in some black gel LSD? Because that also happened, and we made the (inspired? insane?) choice to take it before going to see Fishbone that night. The result was one of the most intense shows I’ve ever been at. The band was in absolute peak form, unleashing a set full of unhinged psychedelic funk/rock that seemed tailor-made for my acid-drenched melon. As thick waves of bass rumbled through my skull, the standing-room-only crowd freaked out right along with me; folks were jumping off the balcony stanchions into the mosh pit. The whole thing was a crazy sensory overload like nothing I’ve experienced before or since. And I still have my pic of Angelo and I standing in the snow beforehand!
Fingerprints, Long Beach, CA (2012)
So a bunch of stuff happened in between dropping acid in Amsterdam and this “unplugged” record store appearance. Most importantly, I got married and had a son, who we dutifully took along with us when the rare opportunity of an afternoon, all-ages, local Fishbone show popped up. You’re never too young for Fishbone! My son was 6 years old at the time, but we had obviously been doing something right. As we walked into the record store about 20 minutes before the gig, we spotted Norwood browsing one of the CD aisles. My son brashly toddled up and said, “You’re Norwood!” To which Norwood offered a surprised, “How you doin’, little man? How do you know who I am?” My son’s answer was simply, “You’re Norwood,” as if his identity should be self-evident to all. As it should be.
After the set, I bundled my son onto my shoulders. As he piggy-backed out of the store, my son spied Angelo above us on the second floor landing. He waved and loudly called out, “See you later, Angelo!” The bemused frontman acted startled and called back, “I’ll see you later,” much to my son’s delight.
Alex’s Bar, Long Beach, CA (2020)
The final show I got to see in person before COVID turned the world upside down. As part of the 20th anniversary celebrations for Alex’s Bar, the legendary Long Beach punk venue, Fishbone played a Sunday afternoon show in its cozy confines. As everyone in attendance fully expected, they tore the roof off the place, tearing through a bunch of their old classics with the energy of guys playing them for the first time rather than the thousandth. This was what I call a “happy show,” one where everybody in the audience and on stage seems genuinely glad to be there, stoked to be together and able to put the outside world at bay for a few hours. Seeing Angelo cavort around on stage like a man half his age (or less!) is always inspiring, too, especially when surrounded by a crowd of similarly aging old punks like me! I think it was literally a week or two after this that we learned just how precious events like this could be, when we all got sent home and told to stay there until further notice. Here’s hoping that as soon as it’s safe to mosh again, Fishbone will be back at it. I’ll be there whenever it happens.
Another excellent installment featuring the autobiographical glue helping hold the Popwell conglomerate together–much appreciated!